


My Sweet Prince, You Are The One

by Falka_tyan



Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Arranged Marriage, Chastity Device, Child Abuse, Cock & Ball Torture, Cock Cages, Cock Piercing, Corporal Punishment, First Kiss, M/M, Manipulation, Morally Ambiguous Character, Non-Consensual Spanking, Princes & Princesses, Public Humiliation, Spanking, stinging nettles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-14
Updated: 2020-08-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:08:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25895677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Falka_tyan/pseuds/Falka_tyan
Summary: One would think that the life of a Royal is all fun and games.As a member of the Royal Guard, I can assure you, this notion is wrong.At least, my little Prince has another opinion. It's hard to stay positive after your bottom has been roasted for nothing, don't you think?Ora lousy knight uses his position of trust to brainwash the poor Crown Prince in his charge!
Comments: 15
Kudos: 109





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, dears!
> 
> This short work has been inspired by the words, "Tend to me, Knight!" seen in another fanfic.
> 
> It's not nice, it's not very happy and, I'm afraid, the future of the Crown Prince is grim!  
> Unless he toughens up and grows a brain! Sappy readers can still hope for that!
> 
> (the title is from one of Placebo's songs, of course!)

“Come, Knight!”

The melodic voice I know so well summons me, and I hurry to obey. 

My little Prince is on his way from the dining hall to his quarters. He looks imperious if one can ignore fresh leaves nestled in his hair and dirt staining his pant legs.

We go through long, well-lit corridors, through a library, and cross the inner yard.  
All the while, my little Prince issues orders and asks me provocative questions which I deflect to the best of my ability.

Finally, we arrive at our destination. As much as I love my charge, he can be… a lot, at times.

My little Prince enters his chambers and walks straight to his wardrobe.

“Tend to me, Knight!” he throws over his shoulder imperiously.

I oblige.

This close, it’s even more obvious how disheveled my Prince is after running and hiding all over the Castle in his attempts to dump his caretakers. He didn’t succeed but I doubt it’s fouled his mood in any way.

I gingerly untie the laces of his fine tunic and breeches, unwrap him out of his thin linens and unclasp the buckles of the chest harness that is supposed to remind him to keep his back straight at all times. It’s rather rigid, and my Prince breathes out in relief. I wonder if the sensation is any similar to how my armour hugs my body at duty time. I let him step away from me to loosen up his joints then stir him gently towards the steaming bathtub.

My little Prince’s shoulders slump forward as he starts walking. Taking a bath means the day is over, and I won’t allow him to read or to draw.

I admire his plump backside and long legs. For his fifteen, my Prince is built rather nicely. Still awkward and gangly, as to be expected from a teen, but charming nevertheless.

The Prince stops at the feet of the tub and glares at me.

“Help me get in, Knight! I don’t have all evening!”

I rush to obey. Holding my hand, my little Prince steps into the scented water and sits down carefully. I stretch out my hand for the soap but another bark from my Prince intercepts me.

I glance at him in question, and my Prince only huffs and announces that he relieves me of the bathing duty today. I nod and bow slightly.

Bathing is a rushed and messy affair when my little Prince is in charge. There’s water and suds everywhere; even the hem of my jacket is wet. I hardly refrain from sighing and shaking my head. It’s not my place to judge.

I am ordered to bring more water soon which I do without delay. When my Prince is done, I bring a big towel and help him dry his body and hair. He has gorgeous golden locks; a true prince from fairy tales.

When I’m finished, I bring my Prince a long, warm robe which I drape over him. There’s no use in tying it properly since he goes to bed soon.

When done, I step away, not touching my Prince a second longer than needed.

He looks up at me, frustration and hurt welling up in his azure eyes.

With a gracious movement of his shoulder, the Prince throws off the robe and is, again, stark naked in front of me.

His little cock cage glints in the candlelight. The tip where the cock piercing is visible; it is glistening... with liquids other than water.

My Prince sits down on the bed, spreads his legs a little, and begs me.

"Please, just today! Take it off! No one has to know!"

My little Prince looks at me with such desperation that my heart lurches in my chest. The small key from his cage is a heavy weight on my neck but, while I am in my right mind, it will stay where it is.

“Stop it, please, my Prince. You know the rules.”

“Those are unfair rules! I don’t understand why I have to endure this while every other boy in the court can live happy and carefree…”

I bite my tongue when I feel like defending those court boys. They have it easier than my Prince, in certain regards, but, unlike him, they also have to fight for their place at the court hard every day. If they want to succeed in life, of course, as I am sure most of them strive to.

Still, I have to interrupt this rant.

“Your brother, the second Prince, is turning fifteen this year. As you may know, he had his cock pierced six months ago. It’s healing nicely. His cock will be put in its own cage the night after his next birthday.”

The reminder makes my Prince scrunch his face and turn away. He closes his legs reflexively and puts his hands on his knees, the very picture of chaste innocence. I like that look on him.

I need to drive the lesson forth though.

"If I do as you say, my Prince, they will take a whip to your backside."

He shudders.

"It won't be as easy on your tender buttocks as the flogger or the belt," I continue.

"No one has to know!" my Prince repeats in the last attempt to convince me. He sounds so small and piteous that I know he doesn’t have any hope that I’ll cave anymore.

I deal the final blow.

"If we get caught, I will have to resign from my post. Your next guard won't be as forgiving."

I don't mention how I will have to face the whip then, too, but where for him, the torture will end as soon as he'd screamed and thrashed enough to be considered reformed, my bloody thighs and back will only be the start. No need for grim pictures - my little Prince appears contrite enough.

Instead, I say something he'll understand, something that will scare him but not damage him.

"I will have to report your transgression to the Head of the Royal Guard."

My little Prince's eyes grow as big as the fine saucers his grandma uses for her tea parties. He looks as fragile as that porcelain, too.

A few bits of silence pass. I wait. I wait some more. Finally, he breaks.

“No, please, don’t,” he says softly. “Solve it like the last time.”

Spank me.

I barely control myself after these words. My skin breaks out in goosebumps. It’s a blessing that I wear such a tight suit complete with gloves - I am not so obvious.

“If you’re sure, Your Highness,” I utter in a cold and most disinterested tone.

My brave, embarrassed little Prince mumbles a “Yes” and stands up from the bed. He knows the drill.

As I get seated in a high chair, he edges closer to me, as if it may somehow soften the inevitable.

It won’t.

I help my blushing Prince to situate himself over my clothed thighs. It’s Tuesday, and the Prince’s bottom still wears dark-pink stripes from his Saturday caning. Other than that, it’s almost back to its pristine state, and I intend not to leave any lasting damage. 

My Prince wiggles in place, and I know that’s because the fabric of my uniform pants is rough on my Prince’s soft skin. It won’t bother him for long, I am sure. 

My Prince’s delicate cock, protected from the world by its snug metal sheath, slots itself between my thighs neatly. Finally, the Prince settles, and I start.

“You’re going to get disciplined for your intemperance and wantonness, Your Highness. You need to rein in your urges to become a good ruler. As a prince, you have to be the picture of modesty and level-headedness. For your people, for your brothers. Just imagine how hard the next few years would be for your brothers without your positive example!”

My little Prince apologizes quietly and then it’s as if all life drains out of him. He slumps over my lap and just lies there, boneless, ready for his punishment.

I remove my gloves and get to work. I spank my Prince until my palms hurt and go numb, and then add a bit more.  
By the end of it, my little Prince cries out at every slap to his reddened bottom and even tries to shield it from me with his hand. 

Poor thing. He sobs so prettily when I spank his upper thighs. It’s a shame that I can’t indulge in properly marking him!

After the spanking is over, I help my Prince up and order him to lean over the chair so that I can rub a soothing cream into his abused skin.

“That’s it, my Prince, and no one needs to know about your small misstep. Now, go stand in the corner and think about your behaviour.”

I make him stand naked in the corner for several minutes. The view of my Prince with his hands behind his back and his bottom pushed out is a pure blessing for my eyes. Residual whimpers can be still heard and some tremors wreck my Prince’s thin frame. But it’s nothing out of the ordinary so I don’t worry about him.

As soon as the Prince has calmed down, I call, “Enough”.

My Prince exits the corner and stands in the middle of the room, indecisive. I let him fidget for a few ticks, then ask sternly:

“Did you learn your lesson, your Highness?”

“Yes, yes, I did! Please don’t tell Mother!”

“No, I won’t. I’ve already promised you. No one has to know that the Crown Prince had to be spanked on his bare bottom in the middle of the week.”

This makes him blush. The Prince shifts from foot to foot, then says,

“Thank you, Knight.”

With that, my Prince starts walking towards his bed. I leave him be. Even princes deserve some time alone.

“Good night. I will be on the other side of the door until the night shift,” I tell my Prince needlessly. He knows it by now but judging from his slightly relieved expression, this small reassurance is appreciated.

I spend an uneventful evening making small talk with the guard and, at dusk, give over my spot to another knight.

Later, in my crammed room (bless the Queen for providing it at all!), I take my own caged cock out of my pants and, with jerky fingers, put the tiny key into the lock on it and, at last, take the goddess-forsaken piece of metal off.

I feel instant relief. My cock swells full immediately. I massage it and my swollen balls thinking how small my little Prince’s cock is in comparison to mine. I will hold my Prince’s cock in my palms in just four days when I will remove the cage for cleaning before my Prince’s Saturday whipping.

In any case, caging my cock has proven to be useful during the times when I hold my Prince in my lap. I wouldn’t want to stiffen against the Prince’s thighs and scare him off with my rudeness.

I find the vial of oil in a box under my bed, pour a little on my fingers, and start stroking.

Ah, do I love Saturday mornings! After a bath, my little Prince gets dressed in a long white robe and marches under my supervision to the discipline room. It’s in a corner tower across the inner yard. There are no courtiers in the Castle on Saturdays but all servants and knights are present. They can watch the three princes in their sheer white robes walk towards inevitable discipline. The maids and the stable boys like to see their noble masters treated in the same way as simple people are. They especially enjoy watching the “walk of shame” after the spankings have been administered. The white clothing doesn’t hide much from imagination. 

The King thinks it’s good for his children to exercise humility; good for the future of the kingdom. I can’t say I disagree.

I imagine leading my Prince inside the preparation room and sitting him in his chair; lifting the skirt of his robe up and freeing his cock. The cage will be cleaned thoroughly while he is occupied and returned after the punishment.

The other two princes watch this happen with glee in their eyes; stupid boys are too quick to forget that the same fate expects them, too. Or do they prefer to delude themselves into thinking it’s only for the oldest son? Naive fools. Especially the middle son; his knight was more than delighted to retell me how he fought and cried for his mom when his cock had been pierced. He should have more compassion for his comrade in misery. Piercing the cock through its slit is an unpleasant procedure, I am sure my Prince would agree. But it’s the only safe way to secure the cock cage in place.

When the Queen said I will have to wear a metal contraption around my member at all times when I am out of my room, I bristled. But the job was too good to pass on so I agreed in the end. I thank myself for this past decision. I am actually lucky I didn’t have to have my cock pierced, too.

But back to my memories.

Only one prince and the nun who plays the disciplinarian enter the discipline room. That same nun leads my Prince out of the door about twenty minutes later, after a whipping that I, sadly, couldn’t witness. It doesn’t matter too much: my Prince looks delicious every time: hair disheveled, the robe dark from sweat, eyes puffy and red. 

Meanwhile, in my room, my hand speeds up on my cock; I’m close.

The Prince’s cock cage is clean and ready to use by the time he’s done. I sit my Prince on the same chair as before, right on his well-punished bottom, making him fidget in pain, and try to put the cage on. I rarely manage on the first try; I usually have to fetch a bowl of cold water to help the Prince’s little aroused cock to go down.

When my Prince’s cock gets dipped into the bowl and he shrieks, his naughty brothers snicker. It earns them additional stripes but they don’t really care: they are a sturdier folk. I am sure, my Prince can’t wait till they both are fifteen.

It’s almost over then; my little Prince only has to sit patiently and wait for his gloomy brothers to emerge from the same door.

This is how I like my Prince: disciplined, subdued, chaste. My perfect little boy.

I finish in my fist, panting loudly. I came so hard that I almost painted my wall white.

I grin. If the Prince’s betrothed is a sensible woman, she will be easy to convince that her husband needs to be kept in chastity all the time, unless it’s time to make new heirs. No one knows it, but the Queen has full control of her King’s cock. I am sure the Queen will give her daughter-in-law clear instructions on how to treat her dear little son after they marry.

The King is not supposed to be spanked, though. I frown. That would be a pity; to deprive the world of the view of my Prince's gorgeous tanned backside would be a true sin.

No, no, no. It can’t be. My little Prince needs a firm hand. I can’t leave it at that! 

But, honestly, that’s a problem for the future me. For now, I clean up my mess and lie down.

Sleep descends on me immediately. I dream of blond locks and pitiful whimpers, and when it’s time to wake up and put my cock cage on, I have to clean myself up again first.

But what can I do? I am just a man, and my little Prince is too sweet a creature to resist.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Little Princes grow up so fast!  
> And adapt to their secluded lives to the best of their ability.
> 
> Meet your favourite boy, ass freshly spanked and fingers knuckes-deep in his own asshole, daydreaming about his future punishments!
> 
> Told from the perspective of the "little Prince" from the first chapter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, my lovelies!
> 
> I got so many pretty, thoughtful comments that my fantasy kicked in again... and I came up with the Prince's side of the story.  
> (I still think he should run)
> 
> The Prince should be thankful none of his caretakers can hear his thoughts!
> 
> Welcome to Chapter 2 of my medieval fantasy - now with a cover art!

Last year, my cousin, the Crown Prince of a neighbouring country, came to visit.

We hit it off immediately. He was shy and clever but also witty and playful. His future wife, the Princess of yet another country, was present, too. She didn’t make a lasting impression on me and my brothers. She looked... normal, almost boring. Maybe, that’s a good trait in a wife? How would I know, though? Luckily, my wedding is far away, for now, and I’ve only seen my betrothed on portraits.

In any case, my cousin’s impending spouse was even more stubborn and prone to lecturing than my Mother the Queen, and it says something. No wonder the other Prince sought my company with such vigour every day.

I was thrilled to finally have a friend. I showed my cousin the Castle, and the library, and even the shooting range. I was trained as an archer, but alas, am I a pitiful one; an even worse swordsman, at that. My cousin had a few good-natured laughs out of my attempts to wield different weapons. Unlike my brothers’, this laugh didn’t make me want to crawl under a rock and stay there - it made me want to bring my cousin joy again and again, as many times as I could. And the way he smiled at me softly, after I managed to perform some elaborate move and posed triumphantly for him, expecting praise… I wanted to throw the whole land with its dumb silver mines and thick forests to his feet.

One time, we managed to drop our knights and guards (and my cousin's betrothed), and climb up one of the castle towers. We sat there, just the two of us, on the top of the world, watching the grass fields and the lush blue pines surrounding the capital city, and talked.

Today I can say with certainty: it’s been the best day of my life.

It’s good that I didn’t know that back then and was able to just enjoy the rare moment of freedom and shared naughtiness. We managed to discuss all the important things, from my cousin's beloved lapdog who stayed in his home castle to my favourite book. At last, when it was time to go back, my cousin grinned devilishly and said in a hushed tone, "Do you at least know how to make your chastity bearable?"

I sputtered (and blushed, I think). How did he know?!

My cousin only laughed and rapped his knuckles over his own crotch. The metallic sound was unmistakable.

I perked up at first, glad to learn that he understood... and then immediately felt sad that he did.

My cousin saw my final reaction and frowned.

"Hey! It's nothing. It's not the end of things.”

Seeing that I was still upset on his behalf, my cousin felt the need to add, “You know, that one time when my dear noble teacher decided I needed extra-discipline, he put a peeled ginger root up my... channel! I tell you, _that_ was the real deal!"

I am sure my eyes were bugging out of my head then. O, Goddess! To have ginger shoved there... That sounded worse than everything the nuns have done to me, ever!

My cousin laughed again. He had such a nice laugh.

"That’s what I’m trying to tell you! My ass was on fire! Even later, when I came back to my room at night, I couldn't shake off the hot, burning feeling there. I just had to rub it off, you know? I took the healing cream, the one my maid rubs into the skin of my backside after it’s been strapped black and blue..."

I nodded. This part I knew well. My cousin continued.

"I took a dollop of the cream and started rubbing it in. And... It felt good. So good that I tried doing this the next evening, too, even though all the burning stopped already. And the next. When my finger slipped right in one time, well, I took it as a sign to go further."

I imagined that scene and gasped. It was so lewd! And so enticing at the same time. I wish I could’ve seen it!

My cousin leaned in even closer and whispered hotly, "If you work up to two fingers, you will find that little spot inside that tingles very nicely. I made myself come like that more than once."

That's when we heard voices on the stairs below.

At that moment on the top of the tower, with the thumping of the guard on the steps getting ever louder and their shouts nearing closer, my beautiful cousin leaned in and kissed me.

The kiss lasted for a few seconds. As soon as we darted apart, our hearts beating fast like those of rabbits, the first guard ran out onto the roof.

Both of us have been caned bloody that evening, and I never had a chance to stay alone with my cousin again.

I sigh. I miss him a lot.

But what’s happened in the past can’t be changed. My cousin would be the first to scold me if I got gloomy over his absence. I give my thoughts a nudge in a different direction and get back to the present day. My sweet corner time is over, and if I appear chastised enough, my mighty warrior will leave me alone.

I am in luck today; my acting skills have definitely improved over the last year.

As soon as my Knight exits my room, I climb into bed, put an old shirt over my linens, and take a little bottle of oil out of a dent between the bed and the wall. I steal this oil from the bathing houses when I can; it’s convenient.

My ass is dark-pink and smarting while my little cock is straining against the metal of its prison. I am such a spoiled, bratty Prince. I deserved every strike my Knight's doled out, and more.

I put my hand over the cock cage and stroke a few times, imagining how it would feel. There's a fat chance I’ll never know. Weirdly, but in my current state, the thought only makes the desire in my belly burn hotter.

Hand spankings from my Knight leave me tingly all over, unlike anything else done to me. It's so arousing to lie over my Knight's knees bare save for my cock cage and receive such humiliating discipline. It’s just him and me. It's better than to be watched by an entire castle for a change but also, so much worse. There's nowhere to hide, nowhere to run from my punisher. I am at his mercy, and not a soul will ever know how he decided to torment me this time.

I pull the covers over my head, get on all fours, then unscrew the lid of the bottle, and cover the fingers of my right hand in oil. I don't make a sound. At least, I try to: as soon as I touch my puckered hole, I almost moan out loud. It's been too long. I was right to provoke my Knight.

It did not feel like a provocation at the time, when I spread my legs shamelessly and begged to have my cock freed. I didn’t think about what I was doing.

Silly me. I genuinely believed I was asking for help even though I know full well that my Knight won't ever disobey his orders.

He's never shown any inclination towards something more sensual than just spanking me either.

Why do I want him so much?

I know I can't have him.

I will be married to a girl I’ve only seen pretty pictures of, and you know how much a court artist likes to flatter.

Enough of this nonsense, I tell myself. I need to concentrate on my task unless I want to be caught red-handed. Oily-handed, ha! I grin at my own primitive joke and then banish all the thoughts about my impending marriage (read: slavery) from my head.

What should I think about?

Oh! I know just the right fantasy.

I imagine last Saturday, after that nasty caning my Father has insisted on after I’ve spent all Friday’s lessons daydreaming. As usual, my Knight sits me on my designated chair (my bottom explodes in fiery pain from the welts) and brings the cock cage over, ready to encase my rebellious flesh again.

I imagine that we are alone, and that it's my Knight who's ordered to have me whipped.

He holds my small cock in his big hands, so carefully, as if it's a treasure. The view makes my heart ache. I know he will never touch it like a lover's cock, stroke it, caress it. Yet, I yearn for just that.

I also yearn for purely physical relief, very much so.

“Please, don’t put it on!” I ask pleadingly. “Just leave it be for once!”

"No, my Prince. Your cock is not meant to be out in the open like that. It would be too obscene. A prince's cock can't be left unprotected."

My Knight takes the cage and tries to put it on where it belongs. My cock grows fully erect under his ministrations as it often does.

I can’t help it! I’m a naughty boy who can’t control his basic desires. I need my Knight to set me straight.

He seems to realize that my cock refuses to behave, again, and wordlessly stands up to fetch the cold water.

That freezing, icy water from hell. That’s what a boy like me deserves. That’s what a needy cock like mine needs.

Doesn’t mean I have to like it.

"Oh, please, don't," I beg when I see the familiar bucket. “I’ll be good, let’s just wait a little, and it’ll shrink on its…”

He doesn't listen. My poor cock is dipped in the ice-cold water mercilessly and held there until it goes down, and then some. It hurts as if a thousand tiny needles are poking my skin, and I grip the chair’s wooden seat not to try and disturb my Knight when he is putting me in my place.

Finally, the torture is over, and my cock, cold, limp, chastised, is put into its metal cage. The Goddess-forsaken piercing is used to securely shut the locking mechanism, and my fate for another week is sealed. I would have to tear my own cock to take the cage off.

“Please,” I beg, not knowing what for.

My Knight takes it as another attempt to wheedle out of my duty to stay chaste at all costs. Of course, such impertinence requires a lecture.

"You have to accept your chastity cage, my Prince. It's going to be on all the time. When you sleep, when you're awake, when you talk to the courtiers. And never ever will you hold your penis in your own hand and stroke it."

"Never at all?" I ask in a small, desperate voice.

"No, my boy," the Knight replies, not unkindly, and squeezes my modest package. My caged cock doesn't feel it but my perpetually swollen balls definitely do. I squeal.

"Your cock is meant to stay chaste all your life. Because you're a Prince, and your cock is not yours to own."

I imagine how strict my Knight's gaze on me would be... and come, so hard that my knees buckle under my weight.

I hope that I didn't make any sounds. I lie in my spend, as quiet as a mouse whose little den is watched by a fox. When no one barges in, I breathe out in relief and allow myself to relax.

No more punishment for me today. My bottom is still hot to the touch, and it's a big mercy that it won't be subjected to another beating this soon.

If they only knew I touch my most secret place and bring myself pleasure that way! I can’t even think of all the mortifying things they’d do to me!

It costs me a big effort but I clean up my mess and wash up the old shirt as well as I can in the cooling tub.

I look over my room. Everything seems in order.

I lie down... and my lust-induced fantasies take over again.

I pretend that my Knight came in right in the middle of my shameful deed. I pretend that he saw my fingers disappear in my well-oiled hole, massaging that spot inside my channel just right, making me moan. My Knight would’ve been so disappointed!

He’d go to the yard and pluck some nettles, then put them all in my short night pants and made me put them on. He’d tell me how disappointed he is, how bad a boy I am, and that I need to be cured of my sinful ways. I’d cry out and pant when the angry nettle leaves would come in contact with my tender skin but my Knight would ignore all my noises.

He’d put a rope over my crotch, tie the pants and the nettles under them securely to my most sensitive bits. Only my cock would be spared, but not fully. There are many holes in its cage to allow cleaning, and the horrible sting from these rare points would drive me mad. My balls, on the other hand, would be fully surrounded by itchy leaves.

All in all, the pain would be unbearable, and I’d squirm, in agony, only to make things worse.

After I’d try to rip the rope and the pants off, my Knight would tie my arms to the sides of the bed, leaving me no freedom to move at all. I’d flail, and scream at him uselessly, unable to do anything to save myself from the inventive punishment.

My Knight would stay unmoved. He’d sit on a chair next to the door, overseeing my pathetic wriggling and struggling, pristine and serious as ever.

“You’ll stay like that till morning,” he’ll announce to my horror. “I will arrange for a full set of discipline measures later.”

On my own bed turned into a torture table, I have to face the consequences of my forbidden pleasure.

I try to hold my tears in but I just can’t. I cry, and I beg, and I groan in pain. At some point, the sting dulls down and becomes a constant buzz at the back of my conscience. Then, I manage some semblance of rest, if I don’t move at all.

The morning comes, and the rope is unbound, and the nettles are taken off my body. I gasp when I see the state I’m in. The skin is swollen and uneven, as if bitten by many wasps. My balls look bigger than they should be, and they are so red! My stupid cock tries to stiffen, and I hiss when its nettles-kissed bits come in contact with the metal.

I am allowed to relieve myself.

Then, I am sat in the same chair my Knight has spent his night vigil in, and I am tied to it. My Knight produces a slim birch. I freeze in fear.

For the first time in my life, I beg not to take my cage off. As always, my pleas fall on deaf ears.

My cock is whipped then. My balls, too. It hurts so badly that I thrash and wail.

To my horror, and the horror of the nuns and servants who gathered to watch their naughty prince take the richly-deserved punishment, my crimson cock starts spurting after a particularly vicious blow to my glans. It hurts, but it also feels so good that I moan aloud…

I start falling asleep to pictures of myself being given a horrible enema right in the middle of the inner yard, where everyone’s cheering and laughing at me, and then of me being put into a full chastity belt, with a metal bulb that goes right into my desecrated channel to prevent me from repeating my offence.

My Knight is there, to cradle me in his arms and to bring me back to the safety of my room after the degrading discipline is over. In my dream, he stays with me and kisses me goodnight.

I would agree to live through my cruel made-up story for that kiss, I swear.

Then, I imagine the biting sting of nettles on my balls and being forced to hold a bucket of water in my bowels for all to see, and shiver unpleasantly.

I close my eyes, ask the Goddess to have mercy on me, to guard me against my own wishes, and sleep claims me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, hey!
> 
> What do you think about the Prince now? Did you imagine him differently? If yes, then differently how?
> 
> (Do you secretly want him to experience the punishment he invented?)
> 
> Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope I didn't make you too sad! Please, share your thoughts! It'll make my day as a writer to hear from y'all!
> 
> You can read my Sheith if you’re interested:  
> [Numb](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063494/)  
> [As You Make Your Bed, So You Must Lie On It](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21536185/)  
> [“Archaic Things” series](https://archiveofourown.org/series/1153721/)  
> [The Key to My Happiness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21174392/)  
>    
> Also, come to my Twitter! It's [Falka-tyan](https://twitter.com/FalkaTyan/)  
> or my Tumblr: [Falka-tyan](http://falka-tyan.tumblr.com/)


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